


London

by cristianoronaldo



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cristianoronaldo/pseuds/cristianoronaldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He realizes one day, out of nowhere, that he wants nothing more than to kiss Cesc all over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London

**Author's Note:**

> Iker and Cesc being Iker and Cesc.

He realizes one day, out of nowhere, that he wants nothing more than to kiss Cesc all over. Small kisses, long kisses, french kisses, surprise kisses, cheek kisses, noisy kisses, slow kisses, chin kisses, shoulder kisses, stomach kisses. He wants to kiss down his spine, down his shoulders, down to his belly button. But he’d avoid that because he’d giggle into his arm like a child and, fuck, that’s when he’ll realize how innocent he is. How beautiful and innocent he is. And he’d spread his thighs slowly and kiss up and down and up and down until he’s no longer giggling into his arms. He’s moaning and he’s moaning his name and he won’t stop until that delicious teasing stops. He’ll bite his lip and look him in the eyes and say, “More?” Almost like it’s a question, almost like Iker could hold back. 

As if Iker could hold back. As if he ever could. 

And he’d whisper into Iker’s ear, “I love you. I love you so, so much. So much.” He’d say it over and over again until it lost its meaning, until it meant more than ever before. Until it was everything and nothing and just a whisper in his ear, just a little hot pant at his neck. 

And Iker would stiffen and his eyes would glaze over and he wouldn’t say it back, but it didn’t matter to Cesc. He would say it until he twisted his tongue and couldn’t speak another word. He moaned into Iker’s ear until he finished, his fingers scratching down Iker’s back. 

Then his hands were in Iker’s hair and he curled into his side, rested his head on his chest. He looked up and said, “Love you, Madrid.” 

And he’d reply, “London” because it was a tiny reminder of the distance and the fact that it would never be--

It would just never be.


End file.
